Fix You
by Whats Mine Is Yours
Summary: AU. JONAS. Nick investigates a murder case, something that he wasn't prepared for, especially since a familiar classmate is involved; someone who he thought would never need fixture. Nick/Macy
1. Beginning

**AN: I decided that I wanted to write some **_**one-shots**_** (or maybe chapter fictions)for the Pure Horace Mantis Challenge that suburbs is holding, so that I can get my mind off trying to think of a good plot for a chapter fic. So for the first one, the prompt is: **_**"Stretch Your Imagination"- What if JONAS was a sci-fi show? AU**_

* * *

He brought his head up abruptly; eyes searching for some kind of explanation- or excuse for hearing that familiar name.

"I'm sorry," Nick sat up from his hunched position on the small recliner chair, a little caught off guard. "I think I misunderstood you."

The elderly man, a little impatient by now that the adolescent in front of him wasn't listening, grunted slightly, his clasped hands unmoving.

"Macy Misa." He repeated the name, though it was not recent in Nick's train of thought.

The curly headed boy, about 17 going on 18, sat back down to his previous position, acting as if he hadn't heard of the name before.

Though he had recognized it once; actually, the minute he heard it, it seemed to have triggered some sort of instinctive reaction.

He had heard of that name before. It wasn't something regularly, that he encountered every day, but he had heard of it.

Nick looked to the side in consideration, _where have I heard that name?_

The shuffling of papers brought Nick's eyes back to the front of the small office, where the older man proceeded to stand up, looking a little exasperated.

Nick quickly stood up, not wanting to look like he wasn't paying attention (even if he wasn't), and walked around the desk to assist the man.

He had already gotten all the papers arranged in a tightly packed folder, and looked at the embarrassed boy from above his rectangular-shaped rims.

"Come tomorrow at 6:00," he finally spoke, walking to the door, which Nick quickly tried to open, "And we'll discuss more about the investigation. It's clear you aren't exactly up to it right this moment."

Nick gave sort of a sheepish grin, and then followed the man out.

_What a way to make an impression._

_----_

The next morning, Nick had driven his car half an hour earlier to the station, hoping that his punctilious attitude today would make up for his idle one yesterday.

It was raining lightly, enough that he didn't need an umbrella. And considering it was about 5:30 in the morning, it was still pretty dark. The station was locked, so Nick had to stand outside under the tiny awning, hoping that his hair wouldn't frizz up.

About a month ago, Nick had applied for the job to work at the Horace West Police station, part time. At first, the people there had just laughed at him, because, well, he was only 17 (going on 18). But after a few days of convincing, and recommendation letters, and some deep-filled interviews, (and coming everyday after school for more convincing) they had decided to give him a try. What harm could he bring?

Nick's first case had certainly proven them wrong. This kid really was a genius.

About half an hour later, a man had arrived in a taxi, with a newspaper over his head, water splashing from every step he took towards Nick.

"What are you doing here so early?" The stranger asked, eyeing his stained watch as if he himself had gotten the time wrong.

Nick took out his hand. "I'm Nick Lucas, the student that James Leroy hired."

The man had hesitated for a short second, before smiling, and pointing at the slightly shorter boy, that stood beside him.

"Oh, yes! I remember he said something about a kid from, what was it?… Horse Mantle Academy—" He said tapping his chin, like one of those old 80's mystery series that came on really late.

"Horace Mantis." Nick corrected politely.

The man smiled, drops of water falling from his long blonde hair. "Right."

"James told me to come at 6:00, so we could talk about the new case you guys have." Nick brought up, trying to change the subject. He hated getting reminded of how young he was. His mom always said that he was a 40 year old trapped in a teenager's body.

"Well let's get to it then."

The man had identified himself as Lieutenant Jerry Iver, the 'best detective since Sherlock', he quoted, to which Nick only coughed.

They had discussed everything about being a private investigator, or what Jerry so called 'the private life of a secret agent'. Nick just nodded, and laughed whenever was needed, but inside he was dreading the thought of spending his days with this impractical man.

He had signed up for this job because his only goal was to become a private investigator (other than his music, which was strictly private now). He didn't want the other people here seeing him as only being a stupid kid who didn't know anything.

The truth was, and he hated to admit it, that he was smarter than the average 17-year old. Nothing like one of those 5 year old prodigies who could play Bach's 16th toccata and fugue in d minor, no. He was just more intelligent, and goal-oriented. And if truth be told, he wanted to get out of high school as fast as he could so he could attend college sooner and study forensics and such. It's just his mother didn't want him to miss out on 'high school life'. Apparently something she couldn't experience.

And this was the closest thing to it.

A few hours later Jerry had finally decided to get to work on the case. A few more workers had punched in to the building, and Nick and Iver had left in his small yellow punch-buggy for the scene of the crime.

The house wasn't too far from the station, and Nick recognized the neighborhood instantly. He lived just a few blocks away.

He thought a bit, while Iver babbled on about his former investigation, about the chances of a crime ever happening in this small Arizona town. It was just sort of, _unexpected_.

The home was particularly small; a town house with one garage, and a small red Toyota in the driveway. Two other police cars were parked on the edge of the curb along with a small van, with the words "coroner" written on it.

The door was slightly open with a police officer standing at the doorway. Iver seemed to have known him; they waved at each other like old pals. Nick just followed closely into the house.

It was pretty empty, other than the other officers putting yellow tape around a small kitchen, where another person in a blue jumpsuit, took dust off a wooden counter; just like a scene from a CSI television show.

Iver went up to the next floor, where more people were, and spotted the old man he had met up with yesterday.

"Morning James." Iver greeted.

James looked away from the woman he was talking to, and gave a polite nod, and saw Nick standing behind him, a straight face on.

"Good morning sir." James referred to Nick. "Glad to see you on time."

Nick nodded then followed Iver into another room.

He ran his eyes across a collage of photos on the chipped wall of the dark hallway. There were baby pictures aligned as if in chronological order. A small girl, with brow curls laughing and swinging on a play set, and pictures of two adults, most likely her parents with her, also laughing. But they suddenly stopped half way, where the remnants of glue stuck to the wall, where supposedly more pictures used to hang.

A low whistle caught Nick's attention, and Iver gestured for him to follow.

Nick looked into the next room, where Iver stood at the door. He could hear the faint voice of a woman who was talking, but it seemed like she was talking to herself, for no one answered.

There was another person in the room though, sitting across from the lady who was, as it seemed, trying to talk to the younger girl. Though, the girl did not speak up. She just sat in her chair, slumped, like Nick was the day before, her arms crossed, and her eyes focused somewhere beside the lady, as if she wasn't here at all; in a totally different world.

Iver looked at Nick and whispered. "That's Detective Monroe; she's the head of this case."

Nick nodded in response, looking back into the room. Monroe's back was facing them, with the girl facing forward. She didn't seem to notice their entry though.

"Macy, will you please cooperate with me?" Monroe inquired again, a little desperation in her voice. But the girl didn't react. "I'm trying to help you."

Nick narrowed his eyes at the brunette. "… I think… I know her." He muttered, almost as if to himself.

Iver stared at the boy beside him. "You _know _her?"

Nick nodded lightly, after a few seconds of hesitation. "She goes to my school."

A few flashbacks quickly ran through his mind, of the same girl sitting in the front of the class, except with a bright smile on her face. The total opposite of what she looked like now; as if she were a entirely different person.

Monroe had mumbled a few things before turning to walk out of the room where Iver and Nick stood, watching her closely.

"Jerry," She said, a little astonished. "What are you doing here?" She then turned to Nick, and raised a brow.

"I'm working on this case too." Iver said. Nick sensed his defensive tone.

"And who's this?" She asked after grinning slightly. "Take your kid to work day, again?" She joked.

Iver leaned up from his position on the wall, and then put his arm on Nick's shoulder. "First of all, this guy's not my kid. I'm not even married." Monroe scoffed.

"And secondly, it's none of your business." He replied in a casual tone.

Nick stepped away from the man, and then put his hand in hers to shake. "I'm Nick Lucas. I'll be working on this case with you as well."

As Monroe's eyes widened at his statement, movement from behind had caught all of their attention.

The chair at which the girl sat on had moved back a few inches, and she was now standing up, her eyes focused on the curly-headed teen, wide, like a group of people had just came out from behind the furniture yelling surprise. Except it wasn't her birthday.

Monroe had quickly taken off to stand beside the brunette. "What is it Macy? What's wrong?"

Nick stared at her, their eyes sort of locked together in an embrace that was only mentally. Her mouth was partially opened, like she wanted to say something to him, but the other people in the room kept her from speaking her quiet thoughts. The moment had passed soon enough, and the girl sat back down.

Monroe, clearly disappointed, came back to the two and refolded her arms. "She hasn't said anything all day."

Iver sighed heavily, as Nick just looked at both of them in confusion. "Why?"

"What…" Monroe answered looking at him, like she forgot he was there standing right in front of him. "You didn't tell him?" She then spoke directly to Iver who then bit his lip.

Nick looked back and forth to both of them, getting more puzzled by the second. He then turned his head towards the silent girl. Dark, purple circles ran under her eyes, and she her skin was sickly pale. And the gray tint from outside's rainy weather didn't really seem to help the fact. Something he did not recognize.

He turned back to Iver, sort of hoping that Macy was _only_ stuck with the flu. "…What happened?"

He looked into his eyes, blurred and empty, like suddenly the light from his own bubbly persona had been knocked out. "Her parents were murdered a few nights ago, right in front of her own eyes."

* * *

**AN: Does anyone smell a chapter fic? Please review, if you're interested. Itsa my first sci-fi! Yay.**


	2. Silence

**A/N: It's been about 6 months, right? Well, I'm really sorry for forgetting about this little thing I wrote. I actually wrote the beginning of second part right after I posted the first chapter, but I didn't know how to end it. And a few days ago i was looking through all my FF files, and saw this, and got a suddden motive to finish it. I know everyone who put it on alert is gonna delete the alert message in their inbox, but I posted it up anyways. So thank you for that! Thanks to the people who reviewed the first part. Reviewers = love. **

* * *

It was raining the next day again.

But as usual, school still had to continue, and Nick lazily dragged himself out of bed, and surprisingly without ease. He was typically the morning person - something you'd expect from a studious guy like him.

So that's what he did.

But Nick's normal decision resulted from his odd, but certain anticipation to go to school that day was maybe, sort of, because of her.

The girl he saw yesterday, one of his classmates, who he saw at the crime scene; the young daughter of the murdered parents.

He felt a need to go and see her today. Just to see if she was okay. I mean, who wouldn't be? She was probably utterly devastated.

But when he got to his second period class - running in a little too quickly - he noticed her absence. Slowly, he made his way to his regular seat near the window, and pondered the thought for a while.

Macy was probably still at home, under the tight scrutiny of Monroe and some other curious officers, eager to finish up the case.

Now he couldn't wait for school to end.

Nick's wandering thoughts dropped when his Chemistry teacher came in, Mr. Douglas, setting down his leather briefcase on his desk, like he too had something dreary going on his life. _Join the club._

"Attention class!" He called out, settling the gossiping teenagers.

Everyone looked up, and Nick already knew, ahead of time, exactly what he was going to announce. Of course he wouldn't let it be kept quiet.

"One of our fellow classmates's, had just gone through a terrible death in the family, and is not going to be joining us for a few days." Mr. Douglas announced, as Nick glanced around the room from his casual slumped position. Students began to whisper again.

He cleared his throat then continued.

"So there is no need to talk about the issue during class. I'm sure all of you have already heard of the distressing news, so let's just continue on with class." He turned around to the board then proceeded to write something. Nick looked out the window.

It was still raining.

At lunch, Nick had run into Joe, his older brother, in the lunch line, who was standing with a gloomy looking friend.

"What's wrong Stella?" Nick asked the blonde girl. She was standing with no tray, her hair not as put up with as usual, and her eyes sore, like she didn't sleep that night. Joe looked to her.

Stella turned towards Nick then frowned even more. "What? You didn't hear?" She murmured, sarcasm dripping off her tone.

Nick looked at Joe, who sported a blank look. He didn't respond.

"Look, I'll talk to you guys later." She said in a small apologetic voice, turning to walk out of the cafeteria.

Joe sighed as he watched Stella leave through the double doors and disappear, before turning to the bugged Nick.

"I heard about it during first hour." Joe stated, trying to break the silence through the loud conversations of the people around them. "Stella's so depressed."

Nick nodded, forgetting about the sardonic reply he was thinking of giving. "I saw her yesterday."

"Really? When?" Joe asked curiously, eying his curly brother. "She was with me the whole day."

Nick shook his head, walking out of the cafeteria with Joe behind him.

"No, I meant Macy." Nick corrected, throwing out his untouched meal in the trash. He wasn't exactly hungry right now. "I went to her house yesterday for the case."

Joe widened his eyes, as if seeing the brunette was taboo. "Really? How was she?"

Nick rolled his eyes, and then glared at his anxious brother. "How do you think she was, Joe?"

Joe looked down, feeling a little stupid for even asking a question like that.

Nick sighed, looking to the side, before looking at Joe again. "I'm going to go again today after school." He sympathized, trying to loosen the moment. "You wanna come?"

"…No." Joe shook his head, not seeming to want his food anymore either. "I'm gonna stay with Stella again."

Nick stared at him again, wondering if everyone heard the news correctly. Or was he just the only one who understood what was going on.

"Why doesn't _she_ go visit Macy?" The youngest brother inquired with his voice severe and cold; as if Joe had just insulted him.

Joe seemed to have noticed the attitude, and narrowed his eyes slightly. "Of course she did." He replied, a defensive tone challenging Nick's own. "Macy couldn't talk to her though. She's not talking to anyone."

Nick parted his lips in dismay, a memory of yesterday where Macy was silent the whole time, not talking to Lt. Monroe at all. But Stella? They were best friends, or what Nick ever heard of them. He always knew that Joe took a small liking for the girl, and had always talked about how Stella's best friend was the enthusiastic athlete, who always smiled.

"I guess she doesn't want to talk to _anyone_ about it." Joe assumed, finally throwing out his tray just like Nick had a few minutes ago.

The piercing sound of the lunch bell rang, and students began to file into the hallways, either from the lunch recess or their third period class.

Joe waved to Nick, signaling their partition, with a halfhearted smile on as he turned in the opposite direction. Nick just stared, unmoved by the pupils trying to get pass him for he stood right in the center of the hallway; a blank, abandoned expression pervading his lavish features.

Though, somehow it didn't match.

* * *

Rain continued throughout the whole day, but Nick still drove down to the house, wanting to know if Monroe had gotten Macy to say anything. But personally, he just wanted to see her.

Nick came into the house, drops of water from his rain coat making small plops onto the cold, tiled floor. The same officers were still in the house like the day before, but Nick ignored them, and went up the stairs to see Iver standing in the same position near the bedroom door. Monroe's tense voice was talking, but still, no one answered. It was like the same thing going on again, like a rerun of an old show.

Nick shrugged off his jacket, not wanting to disrupt anything that might have been progressing between Monroe and Macy, but Iver turned his head, and gave Nick a half-smile in recognition.

"What'd I miss?" Nick whispered, standing beside the man. He looked at Iver, not wanting to look into the room too soon. He didn't want to remember what she looked like; it was too different.

"Not much." He replied; his hand against his chin, in thought. "Just Monroe trying to get some information out of her."

"About the killer?" Nick asked, still looking at the other man curiously, and a little forcefully.

"About anything." He said, shaking his head and closing his eyes in what seemed like desperation. "Monroe would take _any_ words from her. She's so shocked that Macy won't say anything. Usually, she can get any person to talk."

"I guess Macy doesn't trust her." Nick suggested.

At that moment, Monroe's head turned to the doorway, and looked straight at Nick. The boy widened his eyes a bit, feeling embarrassed.

But Monroe didn't say anything; she just got up from the chair, then said something to Macy, that she only heard.

Iver suddenly straightened his position, knowing that she was coming over to them. Nick finally switched his eyes over to the young girl sitting in the same chair, her eyes dropped down to the floor with no emotion; like Monroe's words meant nothing to her. The dark bags were still there.

"Nothing?" Iver questioned. Nick immediately looked back to the tall woman with wonder.

She shook her head, sadly. Monroe then put both index fingers to each of her temples and rubbed them, as if trying to regain some sleep that she might've lost the night before.

"I'm gonna get some coffee. Iver, watch her while I'm gone." She commanded, then walked away. The step down the stairs was the only sound in the house, other than the pitter patter of the rain on the roof.

Iver turned his head towards the other direction, in thought, then looked back to Nick, looking like he didn't know what to do next.

"Hey, Jerry…" Nick piped up, trying too hard to keep his voice low. He was looking at Macy.

Iver stared at the younger boy, his eyes big in question. "Yeah?"

Nick hesitated for a second, then looked to the man beside him. "Do you think it'd be okay if I talked to her?"

Iver stayed quiet for a second, contemplating the pros and cons of letting an amateur talk to a client. Then again, he knew the girl… but what if he said something bad?

_Ah, what the heck… Monroe's gone. Might as well let the boy… _He thought, giving up on his quiet banter.

"…Okay. Fine." He agreed. "But don't say anything that would make her more upset."

Nick nodded, then drew in a breath, silently wishing he never said anything, but stepped into the small room anyways.

He noticed the walls were a light, dull purple. Maybe, because of the colorless sky pouring out from the window.

He scanned his eyes across the room, across the double mattress, the patterned sheets, the pictures on the desk, the book shelf, the trophies aligned on a small shelf… It was like someone had gotten an actor, put some dark, gloomy makeup on her, and placed her into this set of someone else's room.

Macy wasn't in the chair anymore, but was sitting on the ledge of the window still, her eyes looking out onto the flooding street. Nick scratched his head, wondering if he should turn back and see what was taking Monroe so long. But Iver stood at the doorway watching him intently.

"…Macy." Nick mumbled, secretly hoping she would ignore him.

It took a long second before the girl turned her head towards him. She hadn't immediately stood up, like she had yesterday, but her eyes widened slightly at his presence. She kept quiet though.

He smiled at her, trying to be polite. Then put his hands together, realizing she wasn't going to say anything to him. Why would she? If she wasn't going to talk to anyone, including Stella, why should she talk to him?

"Um, Macy…" He cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you- Um, Macy- Well, I'm Nick by the way… Er, well, Monroe's not-"

Nick stopped his useless talking, and knew that whatever he was going to say to her, wasn't going to help anything. But sometimes when he was nervous, he would just babble on about irrelevant things.

"You have a really pretty room."

Behind him, he could hear a low slapping noise. Nick quickly swerved his head around, and saw Iver's palm against his own forehead.

Nick decided to ignore him, and looked back to Macy.

She didn't look moved by anything he just said, so he decided to just top beating around the bush. If he was going to be professional, he had to stop acting like such a _child_.

"Look, Macy." He started again, hearing the confidence in his voice rise a bit. "I know what happened to your parents. And I know what you're feeling. Sure I don't understand what you're going through because I haven't experienced it, but I understand _you_. I understand that you don't want to talk to anyone right now, and I respect that."

He looked back to the doorway and saw Monroe with a surprised look on her face; somewhere confusion and anger mixed in with it. But he ignored her, he'd let Iver deal with her. He just wanted to talk to Macy, even if it was a one-sided conversation.

Nick took the computer chair sitting near the desk and placed it next to the girl, but not too close, and sat down.

"I know…" He sighed heavily, looking at his hands, trying to find the right words to say without seeming like he was just some rude person trying to get information out of her. "I just… I just want to help you." He looked back to her, putting his arms against his legs, trying to lean in and get closer to her.

Macy lowered her eyes from the window, and Nick took it as a sign. At least she was listening to him.

He took another deep breath in as she placed a piece of hair behind her ear.

"If there's anything that I could do, tell me." Nick knew it was a worthless proposal, but there was nothing to lose at this point.

He waited a moment, trying to be as patient as he could be, for any type of response, or even a glance, but she didn't move from her still position. Her feet were crossed, her hands lay on her lap carelessly, and she looked like all the life that was in her a week ago, had been punched out of her, and all that was left was a body. A soulless body.

Nick pressed his lips together in a straight line, and stood up.

He turned back towards the door, feeling disappointed. For some strange reason, he thought that maybe he would have some way with her, because maybe, they were classmates, or because he was her age, but then again, he was just another stranger to her.

Iver shrugged at him; Monroe's face was a little upset as well.

A sudden noise then broke the dead silence; a familiar noise heard before.

All three pairs of eyes turned toward the front of the room, where Macy was standing, her eyes still on the ground.

Nick parted his lips, hoping that she didn't just get up to go get a glass of water or something, but to reply.

"…Macy-"

"Tell Stella that I-I'm sorry." She uttered, her hands folded together.

Nick stared at her, glad that he did have some sort impact on her. "…Sure."

She looked up to him, finally, and bored her eyes back into his.

"Tell her that I'm sorry for not answering her calls."

Nick just nodded, utterly speechless.

Behind those tight, dark circles, he saw her eyes. Her light, hazel eyes.

* * *

**A/N: .... Hopefully, I'm not going to wait 6 months to post up the next part.**


End file.
